Runner On First
by Dingbat142001
Summary: Oneshot. Patrick Verona, Defender of Virtue? PG15 for suggestive content.


**Title: Runner On First**

**Rating:** FRT  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Just the idea.  
**Spoilers:** Season 1, I guess.  
**Summary:** Oneshot. Patrick Verona, defender of Virtue? PG15 for suggestive content. 10 Things ABC Family

I tried my best, but they're turned out way OOC anyway.

Placed in Misc TV, cause I wrote this with the ABC Series in mind, but I guess if you squint and turn your head the the left, movie might also work.

* * *

"Woah," she said, dislodging their lips and pulling away from him. "Wait, we have to stop."

At the loss of contact, Patrick's eyebrows furrowed together, "Why, what's wrong?"

Backing further away from him, the action causing his right hand to be extracted from where it was wound through her hair and his left to be removed from it's location in the centre of her back underneath her t-shirt, Kat moved to sit at the foot of her bed. Eyeing his shirt, as it was pushed down from where it was lodged up around his armpits, she thought it was rather obvious.

"We can't," was all Kat said, flipping her grown-out bangs from her face with a hand.

Patrick cocked his head to the side, "_'We can't'_, what?"

"Do...that," and a vague wave in his direction was the reply.

He briefly raised an eyebrow before smirking, "Oh relax," he shrugged impartially. "Nothing we haven't done before."

Kat too, raised an eyebrow, but concurred with his statement. Five months ago, she was the terrifying new girl with a crass attitude and an unapologetic way of stating the factual wrongs of the world. And though she still said what needed to be said, and glared at who needed to be glared at, she was now the terrifying used-to-be-new girl with an equally terrifying boyfriend, who may-or-may-not have been a cannibal, a Vampire, a son of drug lords and murderers etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. And while those first few days started out a liiiiiiiiiiiittle rocky, she was happy (which was odd), relaxed (which was totally odd), and.... doing things he father would have had a conniption over (which was so obscure there was really no point in mentioning it other than a snowballs chance in hell)....which had, apparently, frozen over.

She still drove the speed limit, she still was home before curfew (although sometimes, with Patrick, it was a tad hard to abide by that rule), she still put on obnoxious amounts of sunscreen before going out for an abundant amount of time, she still ate her vegetables and cleaned up her plate before dessert yadda, yadda, yadda, but now after five months of _'wooing fair, virtuous maiden'_ - as dad put it, lines were being blurred, and clothing...well, it wasn't being removed, just... let's just say it was being moved around...

Kat looked incredulously at him, "Not in my bedroom, and not when my dad's home."

"He knows I'm here," Patrick said, moving to lean against her dresser and cross his arms "I may be a little disobedient and _thug-like_," he air quoted the words her father had used upon seeing his motorcycle at the curb, "but I'm not stupid enough to try anything while your dad's here."

Kat eyed him dubiously before proceeding onto the topic that, for some reason or other, neither one of them brought up before.

"None-the-less, we can't- know, or anytime soon."

"I-"

"So, if that's what your here for," Kat continued, as if he hadn't said anything.

"It's-"

"Then I suggest you leave, quickly, before _something_ either hurts, a lot, or is missing completely."

Patrick merely inclined his head and smiled that special little rare smile that, she had come to learn while dating him that he only did when she was around.

"You're beautiful when you're volatile."

Katarina Stratford did _not_ blush, instead she bit her lip in a failed attempt to stop a girly smile (yeah, she was utterly pathetic), reached across her bed to her nightstand, and chucked a book at him. It was an easy throw, and when he caught it, he threw it back at her, clearly directing it to land on the bed beside her.

Honestly, this whole compliment thing was really… weird. Dad, Grandpa, maybe an Uncle or Aunt here and there were allowed to say such…things; the customary being _'Oh, you've grown into such a beautiful woman,'_ or the sentimental, though uncomfortable _'You look so much like your mother,'_ or the really painful _'The boys must be beating down the door'_…_Uh nope_… but hearing them from Patrick, even if he did say it to mock her just a tad was both awkward and… not entirely unpleasant.

"I don't want to get into your pants," Patrick stated upon figuring Kat wasn't going to interrupt him. "Actually, scratch that, I do."

Kat's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. _Well, at least he's honest._ She was about to kick him out when he spoke again.

"But whenever you want."

Kat cocked her head to the side and gapped at him. "Whenever…?"

Patrick shrugged nonchalantly, "Whenever."

Just when she thinks she has the male species figured to a tee, out pops this bad boy –by which the definition of _bad boy_ literally translated means 'do anything that moves'- who blows the stereotype complete and doesn't want to insert plug A into plug B?

How hysterical.

With her silence, Patrick moved to sit beside her on the bed, "It's no big deal. You make the rules."

Kat looked at him like he'd grown a second head, "I make the rules?" Skeptically, she eyeballed him, "If I make the rules, how is that either fair, or healthy?"

"Like I said, it's no big deal. I figured Doc," as he referred to as her father, "gave you a lecture about do's, don'ts and _hell no's_. _'When'_, makes no difference to me. I'm not the one who has to pee into a cup after being out."

Kat was still doubtful, "What if I decide never?"

Patrick feigned a perturbed state, but smirked, "Well, that might be a little inconvenient…but if that's what you want…"

At that moment, Kat slugged him in the shoulder. "What are you playing at?" She sounded angry, "You're a guy! You only have one thing on your mind!"

This time, Patrick feigned being affronted, before taking her hand and speaking lowly, as if sharing a secret no one other than her walls were meant to hear, "I'm not in this for the sex."

He said it so genuinely that Kat almost had to look away.

"I haven't been going to art shows, or the movies, or suffering through a disastrous double-date with your sister and that pretty-boy, just in the hopes that I might get laid."

Kat squeezed his hand, almost afraid, - or was it thrilled? – at the true reasons he was still around. She wasn't one to be insecure or give a rat's patootie of what other people thought, but this _boyfriend thing_ always had a way of making her feel off-centre….in a good way.

Like he could read her thoughts, a thing he'd picked up on during the past five months, he watched as she ran the pads of her fingers against the handlebar induced colossuses on his palm.

"You're smart, you're funny, you're pretty, you're a pain in the ass…" at which Kat laughed a bit, "you intrigue me, and you _clearly_ want me."

At that, Kat playfully glared at him, "Must you be so modest?"

Patrick looked smug, "I have been called many things; humble is not one of them."

"You're incorrigible."

"I'm also a stud, so I've been told…" Patrick stated matter-of-factly.

"You're a regular Don Juan," Kat deadpanned, clearly amused.

"Knew you'd see it my way," Patrick smirked.

They sat in silence for a bit until Kat spoke, "I just don't want to disappoint him. He's an OB, right, so he knows these things. He's just watching out for us."

Patrick seemed to understand, "I know, that's why it's not important to me, right now; some day, maybe, but not now."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation, and that you're actually agreeing with my dad," Kat was mystified.

"I'm on his good side, for the moment, so I have to behave myself."

"You never behave yourself," Kat smiled at him all knowingly.

"True," Patrick concurred, releasing her hand, to lie down on her bed, his arms crossed underneath his head. "I gotta go soon," he said, alluding to the 10 o'clock deadline he always left by. "How much misbehaving do you think I could get done in 15 minutes?"

Kat lied down beside him, not touching him, but close enough to feel the head radiating off of him. Starring at the ceiling, she good-naturedly scowled, "None, Casanova."

The digital dials on the clock ticked by for a few minutes, until Kat spoke again.

"That double-date with Bianca was pretty disastrous, wasn't it?"

"I've always been a little bit of a masochist, but that was hell."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **_Ewwww! I can't write these characters for love or money. Ugh! They're too polite… esp. Patrick. Ewwie! Ok, OOC then :P Yuck! As mentioned, this was written more for TVverse Patrick/Kat, but I supposed movieverse works as well. Title reference to 'the bases' ;)


End file.
